Diary of a Murderer
by squaredancer
Summary: Extract: "I had values. Notice the word had? I had values. Perhaps not any more, but it is comforting to know that they were there once." Peter Pettigrew tells his story through the flow of ink against parchment.
1. A Rat Wormtail

DIARY OF A MURDERER  
  
Chapter 1 - I had Values... Once  
  
***  
  
My name is Peter Donald Pettigrew.  
  
I am twenty years old, and I am ashamed of myself. Scared, and ashamed. 'What are you going on about?', you say? Perhaps it would be a good idea if I started at the beginning? Yes, I think it would.  
  
Eleven years old. That was my age when I began at Hogwarts. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I knew my letter was coming. Although I was a bit of a dunce when it came to spells and wands, I knew I was magic. I was a wizard. True, I was a poorly upbrung wizard, with very little money, but I was a Wizard all the same. And I had values. Notice the word had? I had values. Perhaps not any more, but it is comforting to know that they were there once.  
  
I prided myself on being sorted into the most prestigious of all houses: Gryffindor the Great. I prided myself even more with the company I kept. James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. James Potter, messy black hair, loving brown eyes and incredibly handsome. Much like myself. Who am I kidding? I am writing this journal to be true to myself, no one else. I am scrawny and pale, chubby and rather mousey looking. Or at least I am now.  
  
Sirius Black. Black hair, handsome smile, incredible sense of humor and he could make even a stone burst into fits of laughter. Then there was Remus. Strong but silent type is what the girls would call him. Incredibly smart, handsome, but in that sweet, almost boring kind of way. Very sensitive and kind. And there it was. The group. There was the sweet sensual intellectual, the kind, funny joker, the handsome sought after almost pretty boy, and me. The scrawny, ugly one that everyone assumed they only hung out with because they felt sorry for me.  
  
But they didn't. Or at least I didn't think they did. We had such good times. The best days of my life. Until it all went wrong. Oh, and how wrong it went. I may well tell you the outcome of the story, mightn't I? No, I think I will carry on. Jumping about to different times in my story will only confuse me. Notice I said me, not you? That is because everything confuses me these days. Everything except one thing; I am a murderer.  
  
You have my introductions, my descriptions of all in my story up to date. I plan on writing more in this journal, but the mark burns upon my arm. Most will not understand yet, but I assure you, it will come out in the end. For now, I must hide away the Christmas present to myself; this journal. Undated, unsigned. Perhaps it was not such a good idea to place my name at the top? If anyone should find this, then all is lost.  
  
I will write more, explain more.  
  
Wormtail.  
  
***  
  
R/R 


	2. Seeking Revenge Seeking Me

Diary of a Murderer  
  
Chapter 2 - Seeking Revenge...Seeking me  
  
***  
  
It's me again.  
  
Well who else would it be? With this journal protected by any number of charms and hidden very well, it could be no one else. It has been over a week since my last passage and I have decided it best not to date my entries. My first entry was on Christmas day. I used to love Christmas. Now I dread it. For a man presumed dead, it can be a tad depressing. Especially when you only receive one present and it is from yourself.  
  
But I suppose I deserve that. In fact, I probably deserve a lot worse.  
  
Today was not a good day. For the fifth time this evening the Weasley boy has prodded me with a stick to find out my magical abilities. I refuse to humor him with my tricks much longer. Plus he tried to force cheese and crackers down my throat three times. Three! I despise cheese. I despise cheese with a passion. Well, quirks of the guise I suppose. Or should I say Cons?  
  
His name is Percy. Percy Weasley. Sort of name to make me want to retch. But then again Peter Pettigrew isn't much better. He is in his first year at Hogwarts, where I attended. Also in Gryffindor, he resides in the dormitory above my old one. Such good and bad memories. I decided that staying at Hogwarts is a good idea.  
  
Away from all of Masters old supporters. All seeking revenge. Seeking me. How was I to know the Potter boy would be Masters downfall?  
  
Anyway, Dumbledore never knew me in my Animagus form so there is no danger of recognition. And under his protecting eye I am in no danger of angry Death Eaters either. The perfect plan.  
  
It is incredibly fortunate that Percy does not lock me up, instead letting me roam around as I please. It is also very fortunate that no one realizes when I am not around, or I might never get the chance to write.  
  
I am babbling. This journal was not intended to express how sorry I feel for myself. It was so I could rid my self of past events. Past mistakes. Past grievances. So I can tell my version of events. My story.  
  
I'm starting to think that maybe they did only befriend me because they felt sorry for me. The first day of my first year at Hogwarts. Second hand clothes, robes, books and even my trunk. No friends. I was a grotesque picture of pure 'uncoolness'.  
  
*  
  
"Hello," said a youthfully handsome Sirius Black. "I'm Sirius and this is my friend James."  
  
"Peter," I answered blankly, believing this to be some sort of prank. Set up.  
  
"What house would you like to be sorted into?" James asked, taking a seat on my right.  
  
"My choice would definitely be Gryffindor," Sirius added and sat down on my left.  
  
"Perhaps Hufflepuff?" I said, not really bothering to think about it.  
  
"Hufflepuff?" James asked astonished. "He seems more like a Gryffindor. Wouldn't you agree. er. Remus is it?" he asked a quiet boy sitting in the corner, engrossed in a book.  
  
The boy nodded his head solemnly in regard to his name. "Gryffindor. Yes," he answered and turned back to his book.  
  
"Remus?" Sirius asked, turning his attention away from me. ? The quiet boy raised his eyebrows, not taking his eyes from his book.  
  
"Do you mind if we call you Remmy? HEY! Remmy and Petey!" he shouted excitedly, nearly deafening me. "Remmy, Petey, Jamesy and Siri!"  
  
James started to glare at Sirius.  
  
"Ok.. Maybe not."  
  
*  
  
I must go. For once someone has noticed my absence. Not much to be worried about, just another Weasley. I swear, this family breeds like rabbits. Ron Weasley is only five years younger than Percy, making him six.  
  
Wormtail.  
  
*** 


	3. Out of Mind, Not Happening Over My Dead ...

Diary of a Murderer  
  
Chapter 3 - Out of Mind, Not Happening Over My Dead Body  
  


* * *

  
Hello.  
  
I suppose a g-o-o-d afternoon would suffice but I refuse to use the word g- o-o-d in any of today's sentences. It has been anything but g-o-o-d. I think I am going barmy. No one to talk to all day and nothing to do but eat cheese and crackers and perform silly tricks for Percy. This whole tirade is beginning to bore me. Perhaps I should have stayed and joined Sirius in Azkaban. That way I have a real excuse for why I am going crazy.  
  
And then we go through the whole 'I deserve it and probably worse' regime. Living out life as a rat certainly is not interesting, I must say.  
  
On with my story. I must get this out into this journal before I convince myself not to. There are so many doubts running through my head as to whether or not I should write the horrible truth that I have started convincing myself that the journal has a mind of it's own and will hurt me just so I don't start convincing myself I shouldn't write.  
  
I have a terrible problem with authority and leadership. It's not how you think. I am not some fabulous, heroic rebel who hates father figures and cringes when someone else tells me what to do. Actually that's a lie. I do cringe when someone tells me what to do, but not because I don't want to do it. It's more because I want to do it but don't want to look a fool.  
  
Never having a father figure in my earlier life is what I blame. My mother was, well, to put it nicely, a whore. She sold herself to pay for my tuition. I should have been grateful for the things she gave up for me, but I wasn't. I despised her. Almost as much as I despise cheese but we've been through that.  
  
She was a common tart who couldn't be the authority figure I needed. So at Hogwarts, I thrived on authority figures. Figures such as James, Sirius and Remus, the three most respected pupils in the student body. And I was recognized as their sidekick...their friend.  
  
Truthfully, I was their friend. I liked them a great deal. They had the most authority among students than anyone else in the school. And girls wanted to be around them. If there was ever a reason to be friends with James, Sirius and Remus, it was the girls that threw themselves at you just to be in their presence.  
  
Of course the novelty wore off. Girls came and went. I lived in awe of the other three, trying desperately to be more like them. Some called me a try hard. Some called me a kiss up. But they called me a friend and that was all I needed. Or that's what I thought.  
  
Soon, as we got older, the other boys took more notice of the girls throwing themselves at them. They began to enjoy female company and I found it very hard to adjust to that. Convinced it was just a 'faze' I ignored it. What is it they say? Out of sight, out of mind? Well it was more a case of 'out of mind, not happening over my dead body'. I refused to accept the fact that they were placing me with female company.  
  
Okay, maybe they weren't replacing me, more like just taking an interest where I was not. But that's what it felt like to me. And not to mention I despised James' new replacement. Lily Evans.  
  
Tall redhead with amazingly green eyes. I wouldn't know. Never looked that close. But James obviously did because those eyes were all he ever talked about. And that was only in his second year. True there were many more girlfriends to come but I don't think he ever stopped fancying Lily during that time. Ever.  
  
Sometimes I wonder how I ever got through that low period in my life. How?  
  
I spent my holidays with James at his home. Actually it was more of a mansion and as soon as I entered the gate I was doe-eyed for the rest of the summer. The fact is, I'd never seen a place with a walk in letterbox.  
  
Ok, it wasn't exactly walk in but it was pretty large.  
  
I spent every holiday at James'. I refused to see my mother any more than was necessary and that was usually only when she wanted to give me all the money she had 'worked for' since she had last seen me.  
  
Sirius never invited us over to his house, mostly opting to stay with James. The fact was that all of his family were 'dark'. A bit like me I suppose. Lucius Malfoy's kind of people. My kind of people though I didn't know it at that time. In fact, no one did.  
  
I am tired now. Enough writing tonight. I think I may have voiced some very deep inner feelings that I hadn't even thought of before. Perhaps I will write more tomorrow. Probably not. I need to think over things some more.  
  
Wormtail.  
  


* * *

  
"I've never seen a place with a walk in letterbox" – The Simpson's, Larry (Burns' son)  
  
*** 


	4. Devouring Me From The Inside

***  
  
Diary of a Murderer  
  
Chapter 4 - Devouring Me From The Inside  
  
***  
  
Never thought I'd be here again.  
  
Or well at least not three weeks ago anyway. I knew last week that I'd be here, but it is still quite a shock. I was sure that after graduation I would never have to endure this awful train ride again. It seems I was wrong. Not only am I on the very train I used to despise, but I am presumed dead, a murderer, a phony, and a disguised rat. Hidden in an empty compartment.  
  
If anyone had told me that this was what I'd be doing after I graduated I would have told them they were being a silly twat and given them a good whack, authority figure or not. I guess I didn't know as well back then.  
  
The scarlet train was the first sight that met my eyes as Percy pulled me out of his bag to say goodbye. Unfortunately he handed me to that devil of a Weasel, Ron. Blasted boy would not stop dangling me from my tail. When people say that it doesn't hurt rats...they are lying! If anyone is reading this, please spread the word around. It pains me just to think that there may be more poor, defenseless rats out there being dangled by nasty little brutes by the name of Ron. I have decided to add the name Ron to my list of things I despise. Somewhere between my mother and cheese. Just after the crossed out 'Hogwarts Express'. Which reminds me, I must write that in again.  
  
Yes anyway. I'm sorry I had to stop writing. A nasty little wretch by the name of Penelope walked in on me as I was writing. She was apparently looking for her cat. What a good job I was not in Animagus form. Anyway, she asked me who I was and I announced myself as the new Defence Against the Arts teacher. I thought myself quite witty considering we never had a Defense Against the Arts teacher for more than one year. I believe the job is too much to handle. Too many Dark Arts.  
  
Well, I felt incredibly witty up until the point where she mentioned that Hogwarts had had the same DADA teacher for five years. Needless to say, I felt incredibly silly. But she swallowed my story. He is away for the first day and I was asked to fill in and get things ready. I'm hating this already.  
  
Percy has settled in nicely. Not that you care to hear of the boy. I have grown quite fond of him. It seems he is a stickler for rules and he defended me without fail when one of his fellow classmates commented on my rather boring décolletage. What can I say? You try turning yourself into a rat, mate, and see how exciting and interesting you turn out to be! Kids these days.  
  
I'm glad that I need not be seen as a human anymore. To be human is to have expectations. Expectations along the lines of getting married, having children, having a good career and being a good person. As a rat I can be as dirty and irresponsible as I want. Perks of the guise. Again.  
  
I went for a walk around the castle. I was careful not to get caught. That was easy enough when I spent the most of seven years running around these very corridors in the middle of the night with two people who I believe knew the most about the Hogwarts grounds. It was just a matter of remembering all the secret passageways.  
  
Thinking of James and Sirius again brings me back to the reason for this journal. I suppose I had best do a little of my explaining while I can. One entry about just what I did that day will lead to two. Which will then lead to three and four and five. Leaving this journal completely void of its purpose.  
  
Where was I up to? Oh yes, Lily and James. Well of course James had the hots for Lily. What guy didn't? It was the fact that she spent her days and nights in the library and doing homework that put them off. But not James. It SICKENED me the way he used to fawn over her, show off for her. She didn't appreciate anything he tried to do for her, simply sneering at him and walking off. She didn't know what was on offer.  
  
I suppose some of you reading this may think I am some form of homosexual, though I am not. I myself have nothing wrong with the idea of homosexuality, just not within myself. Although that could be the small part of me that remains optimistic through these tough times. Never having met a homosexual, I can't really say I am one to judge. No doubt that in a few years the remaining optimism will be gone. Completely void of any hope, feeling or love. And that is the way I have made it. Don't you think it is funny how a few wrong turns on the path of life can lead to a life of misery and despair? I suppose that of all the people I have known, I am the only one who could fully understand that feeling.  
  
Except for one person. Harry Potter. Although the despair in his life is not his fault. The guilt rests on my shoulders. His despair is my despair. And so again, I am the only one feeling this. I am responsible for so many deaths, so many wrongs. But worse of all, I am responsible for the little boy out there somewhere that will never grow up knowing his parents, believing his Godfather is a murderer, and worshipping the brave and honorable but completely dead Peter Pettigrew.  
  
Under different circumstances I suppose I might have felt joy for the fact that someone might be worshipping me. Now I know I wont. All I feel now is shame. Shame, despair and this churning emptiness that eats away at me a little more each day. Devouring me from the inside. Soon I will be nothing more than an empty husk. A shadow of a man. A shadow of a rat even. How coincidental that I should have chosen to be a rat. Because that is what I feel like.  
  
Signed – A Rat. Wormtail.  
  
*** 


	5. Loathing and Dislike

Diary Of A Murderer  
  
Chapter 5 – Loathing and Dislike  
  
***  
  
There was only one thing that I liked about Lily Evans.  
  
It was her clear dislike for James and the other Marauders. Including myself. The fact that while her dislike towards James would prevent him from ever doing anything about his apparent lust for her made me happy. In a sad sort of way. It never really bothered me much about Sirius' girlfriends because most were just fleeting affairs. He is what I have heard Bill Weasley call a 'player'. The fact that his relationships with girls were so brief never really gave me anything to worry about.  
  
Remus never really took an interest in girls, opting instead, to continue reading his books and doing his homework. It was James. His devotion to trying to make Lily Evans see the light was worrying. Not because he was obsessed, which in a way I suppose he was, but because I was afraid it might work. Well as I'm sure you have guessed, in the end it did. But I'm not up to that.  
  
I was worried because the fact that James was not like Sirius at all in that aspect. If he had Lily, he would be loyal forever. He would rarely ever see us. And I was convinced that if that happened, she would make James refuse to be friends with me anymore on account of her loathing me. I don't know why, but if it came to a toss up between her having a date with me and her having a date with the Devil himself, she would have chosen the latter.  
  
I was mortified. I was constantly tripping over myself when she was around, thinking that this time she might say 'yes' to one of James' invitations. Hence the reason people started thinking I liked her. Adding to Lily's dislike of me. And putting me dangerously close to becoming a permanent name in James' bad books. Fortunately he took my word for it.  
  
After that particular incident, I stepped carefully whenever I saw a flash of any reddish colored hair.  
  
Please excuse my absence for the last week, I was... 'busy'. Shall I just say that though some of Percy's friends find my coloring boring, there are several female rats in Hogwarts that would disagree. Though I must say I find it flattering to be the object of a rats attention... well actually I don't, but still, I must say it is a tad wrong, even for me.  
  
I have spent the entire week in hiding. Mostly in Percy's bed sheets but that stopped happening when he decided to go to bed straight out of the shower. Wearing nothing. Once again, Azkaban proves a desirable prospect. Even if they served me cheese.  
  
I apologize for replying so late, but it is sometimes difficult to find a time when the common room is deserted. Right now it is early in the morning with the sun just rising over the horizon. I hear stirring in the dormitories above me and so I am afraid that I must cut this short.  
  
Wormtail.  
  
*** 


	6. Psychotic Jealousy

***  
  
Diary Of A Murderer Chapter 6 - Psychotic Jealousy  
  
***  
  
I think today I realized what it was I wanted. What I wanted out of joining with Master. What I wanted when I came to Hogwarts. What I had wanted all along.  
  
It took me a long time to realize that what I was daydreaming about was what I had lusted after all my life. I say lusted, but I do not mean like that. I mean more like how some people feel when summer is gone and won't be back for a year. The people that have an uncontrollable passion for Quidditch that only Quidditch itself can quench know what I mean. As do those far away from a loved one. What I have always wanted is a world without rules or controls, borders or boundaries. A world where anything is possible. And Master... no, Voldemort, could give that to me.  
  
Though he scared me immensely, scared me so much that I didn't want to close my eyes and equally didn't want to open them, he could give me that which I lusted after. That which I unconsciously yearned and obsessed over. Yet all our union gave me was a sense of fear, a sense of entrapment... a sense of self-loathing, which I can't rid myself of. Even now, so long after his downfall.  
  
It has been over four years since my last entry. I found it hurt too much to write more and so I stopped, foolishly quelling the need to tell my story. Only now it comes out more fearsome than ever. Because of one person.  
  
Harry Potter.  
  
He is here. With me. In the same continent, same country, same 10 mile radius, same building, same tower... same dormitory. It pains me to see his uncanny likeness with James. And I need never try to imagine how green Lily's eyes ever were when I see them every day. Haunting me. The eyes I never cared to look at but knew better than my own due to James' constant rambling.  
  
In fact, Harry is the reason I have started writing again. His presence in my life has brought memories flooding back. Memories of happiness and despair alike. And it seemed suddenly clear. I had to carry on where I left off. I had to tell my story, if not for myself, but for Harry. For Harry's parents. It's amazing the clarity that comes with psychotic jealousy. Because with the memories of happiness and despair came the memories of intense jealousy. The jealousy that drove me to seek other forms of alliances.  
  
If only I had been detained. Sirius could have convinced me to do homework. If James hadn't gone after Lily that night... followed her to the library... I wouldn't have gone for that walk... I wouldn't have met him... he would have passed by unnoticed I would have carried on my way...  
  
***  
  
ANOTHER CHAPTER DONE. THAT ONE WAS EXHUSTING. IT'S QUITE HARD TO WRITE LIKE YOUR DEPRESSED WHEN YOU'VE JUST HAD A FABULOUS DAY! PLUS, IT MAKES ME FEEL ALL DOWN WHEN IM FINISHED. :(  
  
OHWELL. PLEASE R/R. IT ONLY TAKES THIRTY SECONDS BUT IT MAKES IT MUCH HAPPIER. PLUS, IT MAKES UP FOR WHAT A DEPRESSED MOOD THIS CHAPTER PUT ME IN ;)  
  
TATA. 


	7. Physical Exhaustion

  
  
Diary Of A Murderer 

Chapter 7 – Physical Exhaustion  


  
  
But I didn't.  
  
I left the Common Room when I did and there is nothing anyone can do about it now. Nothing. I walked. Angrily. Alone and confused, I walked over the grounds, round the lake and into the forest. Perhaps if I had stopped to smell a flower? No, the Forbidden Forests yields no flowers. Just monsters. Like the one I found. By the name of Voldemort.  
  
I walked through the forest fast and hard, trying to take out my anger upon the plants and probably putting myself into more danger than I cared to realize. I used my hands to shield my face from scratching branches. Branches that tried to slow me, tried to warn me of things to come.  
  
Emerging in a clearing, where the moon shone through the leaves of the trees high above and casting an eerie green light over everything I saw darkness. A darkness so dark that it seemed several shades darker than black. Right it the middle of the clearing. Also, the skin prickling, hair- raising feeling clung to me like spellotape.  
  
The darkness deepened before it lightened, and out of it emerged a figure. No, not a figure, a creature. Because a figure is a human description and the thing that emerged was no longer human. Dressed in black robes, head completely covered, only a shadow in the gap of the hood of the robes. I could not see even one facial feature. Not one little bit of chin.  
  
I was aware of the fact that everything became cold. Everything froze... the trees stopped swaying, the breeze stopped blowing, I stopped breathing. I could tell the creature was looking at me. It was that feeling that you get when someone is watching you. There was no evidence of this thing even being alive but I /u it was. Don't ask me how, I just did. And it was watching me.  
  
It felt like I was running a marathon. My heart was beating one hundred miles and hour, all my limbs felt heavy and sore. I even had the vague feeling of my head throbbing and feeling like I was going to faint after coming to a point of complete physical exhaustion. That has only happened to me once before and that was when I actually did run a marathon. Sirius, James and I ran a muggle marathon while Remus sat on the sidelines. Why do muggles do that? I mean who in their right mind would want to feel like that all the time?  
  
Anyway, that was how I felt. Worn out, exhausted and by far too tired to fight back. Funnily enough I didn't have to fight.  
  
"I know you, Peter," the creature said in a cold, inhuman voice. Somehow... I'm not actually sure how, I managed to reply, and I didn't sound too nervous much to my own astonishment.  
  
"I fail to see how."  
  
"Oh, but I do. And I know you seek leadership. Perhaps I am the Leader you seek?"  
  
It occurred to me, though I most definitely didn't say so, that this creature was being incredibly cocky. Although, if I was a mysterious thing in the middle of one of the most dangerous woods in Britain and the trees stopped swaying simply because I took a breath, I would be cocky too.  
  
Wormtail. 


	8. Heir of Slytherin

  
  
Diary Of A Murderer Chapter 8 – Heir of Slytherin  
  
I can sense him.  
  
Oh God! I can feel him here. The mark burns upon my arm. Paw. Furry thing. Whatever you would prefer to call the limb that is attached to my shoulder, but I can FEEL him. He is here, in Hogwarts. And it scares me. Surely he is not here to have his revenge on me? Because of one silly little mistake such as leading him to his demise? Surely not...  
  
I'm dead.  
  
But he never knew my Animagus form, and surely he thinks I died by Sirius Black's hand? Perhaps while the threat of Voldemort remains I might just let everyone carry on thinking that. Just to be on the safe side.  
  
Maybe I'm going crazy? Maybe the whole 'rat' thing is taking me to an early grave? Or maybe not. If anything senses are heightened in rat form. I can hear better, see better and most definitely smell better. And his scent hides in the dark recesses of the castle. The parts where only something small can get. Something like a rat.  
  
I can smell him everywhere. His scent lines the corridors, the Great Hall. The only place I can't smell him as strong is the Common Room, but his scent is still there, as if it clings to the student's robes.  
  
I came back late that night, confused and more than a little scared. Instructed to come back the next night, same place, same time. And I did so.  
  
I began to withdraw from the others slightly. Or not withdraw, more like become quiet. Before I met Voldemort, I was quite loud, enthusiastic and some even say humorous. I had the mark emblazoned on my arm after the second month, when he was sure I could take it. And when he was sure I was loyal.  
  
I began to think of him as my family, which was clearly very foolish. To be a part of a family is to love and be loved. Neither of them were parts of that family. I was merely scared of him, I didn't love him. And he needed followers. So really that is not really a very strong family. But I was young and foolish.  
  
I'd like to think that we all grow out of it. Do we? I wonder if I will. I'm sure I will. Perhaps I have already? Was there something in that mashed potato, I seem to be acting a bit strange. Anyway, I must find out who it is that is concealing Voldemort. I would like to think that no one was purposefully letting him within the castle but the chances of him getting in of his own accord are very slim... even if he is the greatest Dark Wizard there ever was and the Heir of Slytherin.  
  
Wormtail. 


	9. Animalistic Traits

_Diary of A Murderer_

_Chapter 9 – Animalistic Traits_

_Please excuse my last entry._

_I was not thinking straight. My mind was travelling one hundred and forty miles an hour. I managed to settle down… mainly because I hate high speeds. I had this mental image of my brain flying around my head at top speeds before coming to a literally brain-numbing stop on the inside of my skull. Needless to say, it was not pretty and there was lots of blood._

_I'm getting off task again. I tend to do that a lot. Anyway, I went back to the meeting place one night, only to realize at the last moment that it was a Full Moon. The consequences were large. Werewolves never remember a thing after their transformation, and I am happy to say that Remus had no clue what had gone on that night._

_Sirius had followed to make sure that Remus got to the Shrieking Shack okay, but as he was being escorted down to the tree, the moon came out early from behind a cloud, changing him before they had a chance. Of course, it was Dumbledore escorting him and he had no idea that Sirius was there, so Sirius didn't have a chance to go after Remus. And a bloody good job or I don't think either him or I would have made it this far._

_The werewolf is an extreme representation of our inborn animalistic traits. That sounded smart. I got that out of one of Ron's brothers' books. Quite interesting stuff, although I'll be damned if I know what that sentence means. I'm sure anyone reading this will understand… it sounds important. _

_Remus came charging at us like a bull in a china shop (excuse the phrase) and felled four fellow Death Eaters, injuring three more. Amazingly I escaped harm… partly because I curled up into a small ball and hid in a hole in the ground. Not the point. The point is that I had to get back to the dormitories pronto, before Sirius informed James and in turn informed me. At that time we were still working on the Animagus forms. In fact, at that time, I was still choosing whether to be a tiger or an elephant. I don't care what Sirius said about neither of them living in Britain… being a budgie just seemed to defeat the purpose a tad._

_It would be another year before we managed our first transformation that didn't include one of us being horribly mangled or ending up with someone having too much chest hair after they turned back. And then there was that time when Sirius walked around with a hairy back for a week because something went wrong._

_It was quite a sight whenever Malfoy would walk by as Sirius raised his hackles. I'll never forget that. _

_Wormtail._


End file.
